Replacement
by Sarah Kennedy
Summary: Buffy learns the difference between 'life' and 'being alive' when somebody replaces her. Everybody believes the new person is Buffy - except for Spike.
1. I

Thanks to k_haldane, my beta, I couldn't have done this without her :)

**I**

Buffy stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth without paying the slightest bit of attention. Everything was all so… same. So tasteless. So filtered and blank and erased clean of anything that could be defined. After Heaven, Earth was a paltry and dull replacement. She couldn't even feel angry at her friends for bringing her out of there – not real anger, not like she wanted to feel.

No, she didn't even want to feel. Wanting anything was too much of an emotion, and everything of the heart and soul had been left back in Heaven. Buffy was an empty shell, a fragment of what she had been. They'd torn her out of Heaven and so much of her had been left behind. And she still had to brush her teeth, get up in the mornings, patrol, act normal. She had to look after Dawn and try to figure out a way to support them both. And she had nothing to do it with. Nothing left of herself to push her forward. The only time she felt anything – anything at all – was with Spike.

_Spike_. God, as if her life hadn't been screwed up enough already! She had to go and find all her emotions had been deposited, as it were, with the vampire, and she had to get them back on loan from him. She had to feel something, even if it was complete revulsion. She wouldn't let herself feel anything else with him. She could feel anything and everything with him, but she wasn't meant to. She was the Slayer still, and Spike should have been a pile of dust years ago. Even if she could leave him running around loose, with the chip and all, there was no reason – _none – _to be sleeping with him. Her emotions were a drug, and Spike was her needle. That was all. He was a means to an end. She'd be with anyone else if she could feel something with them. But Spike was the one she felt like herself with, the one who made her feel something. She had to feel. She couldn't just drift through existence all empty. She needed what Spike could give. That was all.

That was _all _and she would never let it become anything more. Not ever. She couldn't. She was the Slayer and the Slayer wouldn't take it.

She lowered the toothbrush and stared blankly at herself in the mirror, hair a mess, eyes blurry, drips of toothpaste on her shirt. And she didn't even care. She didn't care that she didn't care. She was able to pretend in front of the others; able to cover up how empty and broken and wrong she felt inside. She just acted like she had been before, forced herself back through time to be the girl before the leap from Glory's Tower, made herself into what people expected to see. But it all vanished when she was alone.

Alone, everything disappeared. Alone, she couldn't pretend to be anything other than what she was – smashed, ruined, and lost. Alone, she had to be what she was – really, truly, dead.

She slammed her fist into the mirror before her. It cracked, lines radiating outwards from the impact, splintering the image of her face into countless different pieces, shattering and dropping to the floor. The sound echoed loudly in the frozen stillness, the glass bouncing and breaking anew on the tiles. She pulled her hand back, staring confusedly at the jagged lines cut across her fingers and stretching down the back of her wrist. She didn't feel a thing. Not from the blow or from the tears the fragments of the mirror had cut into her. Why couldn't she feel the pain? It had to hurt, she knew it _should_; she'd hit that thing pretty hard, even by her standards. She couldn't feel emotions, and now she couldn't feel pain either.

A sudden noise from outside the window didn't distract her from the blood across her hand. Neither did the sound of the window being opened and somebody slipping inside. She just didn't care enough right now.

"Bloody hell, what happened to you?" A tiny thrill rushed through her at Spike's voice, laden with care and concern. She clamped down on it fiercely, trying to smother anything she felt for him that wasn't related to disgust. She wanted to feel, yes – that was why she went to him – but she still didn't want to feel what she shouldn't. What the Slayer shouldn't.

"You know you're bleeding?" he said softly, crouching down beside her and taking her bloodied hand in his. Buffy let him do it numbly, barely noticing as he dug shards of glass from her skin. It could have been anyone; Willow or Tara or even Dawn, and she would feel just the same.

Or she _should_. That was the problem. She was still together enough to realize it was a problem. Spike _should _be nothing to her; if he was anything he should be a hated enemy and the only positive thing she should feel was grudging respect. And yet she couldn't deny how good his hand felt on hers, how his cold fingers soothed the sting as he splashed the cuts with antiseptic. Spike was becoming more and more a part of her life, and she was coming closer and closer to the point where she could admit that. And that scared the crap out of her.

"Mirror do something wrong, pet?" Spike asked, holding up a fragment between them. Buffy tried not to feel loss at the removal of his fingers.

"I don't know… it kept showing me… something I didn't want to see, I guess." Buffy shrugged. What did it matter? What did anything matter?

"Buffy…" She sensed he wanted to say something more, but he didn't; he let it trail off and sat with her in awkward silence. She picked up a largish piece of mirror, holding it up idly, focused somewhere behind and above her.

She let it drop to the tiles in shock. Someone was standing behind her.

Spike realized it at the same moment she did, springing up and putting himself between her and the intruder. Buffy couldn't bring herself to get up off the ground. She just felt to tired and sick… and Spike could handle whatever had just appeared in her bathroom.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" he snarled, vamp face shifting forward.

The intruder smiled. She appeared to be human, around Buffy's age, with wavy brown hair and features that looked entirely too familiar. Buffy stared at her harder. She reminded her of someone… It hit her like an electric shock. She looked like Dawn. She looked like a hybrid of Buffy and Dawn. Buffy and the new girl could easily pass for sisters.

"I'm not your sister," she said in response to Buffy's thoughts, something that didn't freak her out nearly as much as it should have. "I'm _you_. I'm Buffy Summers." A wicked grin cracked her lips. "Or at least… I am now."

"What are you on about?" Spike demanded, fists clenching. "You're gonna get out right now or-"

"Or what? You'll hit me? You can't hurt humans, Spikey. I'd've thought even you could have learned that by now." The girl claiming to be Buffy grinned again and flipped her hair back over her shoulders.

"And how exactly do you know that?"

"Because I'm her," she said, nodded down to where Buffy was still crouched on the tiled floor. "I have everything that she was in here." She tapped her temple. "Her life is mine now. I am everything she was. I've replaced her."

Spike cracked and leapt forward, landing a solid punch on her nose before he broke back with a cry of pain. He mastered himself with an effort and turned back to the brunette, who was picking herself up off the towel rack.

"What do you mean _replaced_? How the hell can you replace Buffy?"

"Her life is mine now. Now that Buffy has given up her life so thoroughly, wasted it so completely, I'm taking it for myself. I'm going to live this life, since she doesn't want to."

Spike lunged forward like he wanted to hit her again. He settled for more angry demands in his scathing tones. "You can't just take her life 'cause she's not living it like she could! Who the hell do you think you are to march in here and claim everything as yours?"

"But it _is _mine. It's mine now. Buffy's wasted her life. She never had to fight for it, never had to take it for herself. It was just given to her by fate, God, whatever. And she hasn't used it like the gift it is. She's still just sitting there like she couldn't care less! Ever since she came back from Heaven she's just sat around moping, doing nothing, wishing she wasn't here. Wishing she was someone else." She smiled again. "I can do that."

"Buffy sacrificed her life to save the world – to save her little sister! How is that not using it to the full?" Hatred dripped almost visibly from Spike's words. "She gave up her life. She didn't come back from Heaven because she wanted to! Her friends ripped her back and shoved her life into her!"

"Exactly. She was given the perfect life… twice. And she _still_ couldn't do it right. Hell, the Vampire Slayer screwing a vampire? Everything else could potentially be forgiven, but for her to go against everything she is, that she represents? Don't tell me that's not a waste of everything she's been given. She doesn't deserve her life anymore. She doesn't want it anymore. She knows what she's done, she knows she's all wrong, and she just wants it to go away. So it's mine. I'm more deserving. She's had her chance at life and she missed it. All those mistakes, everything she's ruined… Well, now it's my turn."

Buffy still didn't look up, either at her defender or the girl who was stealing everything. She just felt odd. Everything was being stripped away from her, being taken by the upstart standing not two steps from her. And she didn't care. In a way, she wanted it gone. Her life had been nothing but a burden to her since crawling out of that grave. Maybe new-Buffy was right. Maybe she didn't deserve to have a life anymore. And more to the point, she didn't want it. Her life was nothing anymore. Sure, somebody else could have it. She was welcome to it.

"You don't understand a bit, do you?" Spike was getting close to yelling. "Somebody like Buffy – the most amazing person this world has ever seen –she's done so much, _suffered_ so much, and you don't even care! Is it any bloody surprise that she's changed after being torn out of Heaven? Can you blame her?"

"Of course I care," new-Buffy said. "Because that happened to me. Ask anyone. Ask Dawn, ask Willow, ask – hell, the guy at the pizza place – all that stuff happened to me. _I _jumped from Glory's tower. _I _crawled out of that coffin. Because Buffy's life is my life. Get it through your thick skull, vampire – _I am Buffy_."

Spike looked ready to slug her again when somebody spoke from outside the room.

"Buffy?" they called through the door. "You talking to someone in there? Only I need the bathroom sort of now-ish."

"Oh God," Buffy whispered, slipping back against the bathtub. "Dawn…"

"Yeah, Dawnie," new-Buffy called back, a smug smirk plastered across her face. "S'alright. Come in."

Dawn opened the door and stepped through, pausing as she saw the gathering. "Hey, Spike. Didn't know you were here." She glanced down at Buffy, huddled on the floor. Even now, even with Dawn here, she just couldn't get up. "Who's this?"

"I'm – Dawn, I'm-"

"I was out patrolling and she was being attacked by a demon," new-Buffy explained over Buffy's weak protest. "She was pretty torn up, I figured I couldn't just dump her. I think she's still a little out of it though." She turned away from Dawn so only Buffy and Spike could see her victorious grin. "We'll just be a few more minutes."

"Okay," Dawn shrugged. "Oh, and Buffy, Willow called, she won't be coming back until late tonight, she's got something on or something." Dawn waved and left, closing the door behind her."

"Oh God… Dawn…" Buffy felt a lone tear trailing down her face. She hadn't thought, when condemning her life, that Dawn was a part of it. Dawn was the reason she'd jumped in the first place, the reason she died and went to Heaven, and the reason she hadn't done everything she could to get back. And new-Buffy wanted that as well?

"Not _want_, sweetie. _Have_. Dawn's _my _sister. I jumped to save her. When they pulled me back, I stayed out of Heaven for her. Everything is mine. I've taken it all. I win."

"No you bloody _don't_," Spike snarled, lunging forward again and landing blows even as he fought off yells of pain, his head jerking from the impact of the chip buried in it. "You don't get to be Buffy. You could never – never – be Buffy."

"Let her be," whispered Buffy, almost inaudible over her own breathing. But Spike heard, tossing new-Buffy across the bathroom and dropping down to her.

"Buffy, you can't just let her walk in and take everything – take Dawn-"

"I can," she said dully. "I want to. I can't do this anymore, Spike. It-it's too much. Life after Heaven? I can't take it. Maybe she's right. I've had a life already. It's someone else's turn. And Dawn was fine with her. You really want me – a total stranger to her – to go down and say, 'Oh and by the way, I'm really your sister'? I can't, Spike. Just let her take it."

"You don't believe that," he challenged, but she could tell his dead heart wasn't in it. Just as her equally-dead heart wasn't in it either. "You don't."

"I just want to go," she mumbled. "I want out. Take me… take me anywhere, Spike. I don't live here anymore." She reached up an arm and wrapped it around his shoulders as he stood, lifting almost her entire weight. New-Buffy smiled as she watched them move to the window and slip out.

"Oh, and Spike… Seeing as I'm the Slayer, I'll be paying a visit shortly. Something _I _should have done long ago." She grinned ferally and slammed the window shut.

"Oh God…" Buffy moaned. "She's the Slayer… _she's _the Slayer?"

"I told you that you didn't want this," Spike said as he hauled her over the roof to the tree nearby. "She's taken everything, Buffy, and you just let her!"

"I don't have to be the Slayer anymore," Buffy said in stunned realization. For so many years her calling had been a burden, a necessary evil, something she did because she had to. The obstacle to her relationship with Spike, and to pretty much every guy before him. But now… now she didn't have to be the Slayer. Now she didn't have to stop her feelings for Spike – they weren't wrong anymore, weren't against everything she was. He was the one who loved her and she wasn't the sort of person who couldn't allow herself to feel that love. Not anymore. Now she could trust him to rebuild her. Now she could allow herself to feel whatever she wanted.

She wasn't the Slayer anymore. That was part of her life, and her life was standing back in the bathroom, echoes of her laughter drifting across the lawn as Buffy and Spike turned away. Buffy left her life behind, and still didn't miss it. She might tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after _that_, but right now she didn't care.

For once, there was nothing hanging over her head. No looming threats of vampires and demons in the night, no hellgods creeping up behind her and attacking her sister. And for that, she felt grateful. Grateful to not be the Slayer, to not be controlled and channelled by what the Slayer was. Now she was just Buffy, just herself, and now that her life had been taken away, Buffy could be anything she wanted.

She didn't notice where Spike was leading her until they arrived; his crypt, of course. She liked it here. Perhaps it was something to do with having been dead, but she felt safe here. It was calm, and peaceful. And it had Spike in it.

For once she wasn't filled with revulsion for considering Spike's presence a positive thing. She could feel whatever she wanted to feel for him. The Slayer wouldn't stop her, her friends wouldn't stop her. They weren't her friends anymore. They were new-Buffy's friends, and she was apathetic enough to not be worried about that. They'd torn her out of Heaven – they hadn't even apologized for it – and she couldn't bring herself to be devastated at their loss.

Spike slammed the door behind them and leapt straight into it. "Buffy, you can't seriously want to let her take your life like this! You just lay down and let her walk all over you-"

"I dunno. You did a good job defending me." She paused hesitantly before continuing. "Thanks for that. I mean it. But… I don't know, I'm just too tired. Can't I just sleep?"

"Okay, pet," Spike murmured, reaching out for her hand. Buffy wanted him to take it, wanted to feel his touch on her skin; but at the last second he pulled back and kept going like nothing had happened. Buffy's hand itched with emptiness. Spike went down the ladder into the lower level of his crypt, calling up to her to follow. She did, catching up just as they rounded the corner into the main room. Spike turned away to search through one of his piles of junk for something. Buffy just headed straight for the bed, absolutely exhausted. She flopped down without ceremony, lying fully clothed on the covers, too tired to care.

But Spike evidently wasn't. "C'mon, you can't sleep like this," he protested. "'F you want something to sleep in, you can borrow this." He laid out one of his black t-shirts on the bed for her. Buffy felt warmth spread through her at the thought of wearing his clothes. "I'll go back upstairs, let you get some rest."

"Spike…" Buffy called at his retreating back. "Will you… will you stay?" She rushed ahead before he could interrupt. "It's just – you've been there all through what's happened, through 'new-me' turning up and everything… I'd just feel better if you stayed. With me. Please?"

He was already coming back and pulling off his duster. "Don't have to ask, pet," he said, sitting down on the bed next to her. "I'll always be here for you. You know that."

"Yeah," she said. "I do. And that means a lot to me, Spike. A lot. I mean it." She pulled her top over her head and unclasped her bra, replacing the layers with Spike's borrowed shirt. "Thanks for that. I just can't stop saying that today, can I?"

"Not complaining," Spike said, picking up her clothes and setting them aside, doing the same with her jeans when she tossed them over to him. "I'm just glad you're still here. Staying. I'd figured you would've left a long time ago."

"That was the Slayer," Buffy said. "That was the Slayer not letting me feel anything for a vampire I should have staked ages before. But the Slayer's gone now. The Slayer's back in my – _her – _house. So now I can be honest with myself." She stood up and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "With you." She briefly pressed a kiss to his neck before turning away and folding herself under the covers of his bed. She felt him lie down beside her after a few moments, and snuggled herself into the cool haven of his arms. As though they were a normal couple.

Buffy suddenly realized that that was something she wanted very, very much.


	2. II

**II**

_New-Buffy_

Buffy yawned as the alarm clock set itself off, filling her room and probably half the house with its shrill, vaguely disapproving tone. She swatted it to turn it off and lay back in her pillows. First day of life – of _real _life. Today she made Buffy Summers's life hers. From now, she would live this life to the utmost – no more mistakes, no more wasted chances. She wouldn't make Dawn feel unwelcome and alone. She wouldn't leave essentials like grocery shopping to everybody else while she sat around moping about Heaven. She would make time for her family and friends, and for herself. And she _wouldn't_ sleep with her mortal enemy.

Buffy smiled at that last one. No doubt that was exactly what her former self was doing, even after she'd had her life stripped away for it. Yes, Spike was cute. But he was also a vampire, and _this _Buffy was going to make sure that she did her job as the Slayer. That involved slaying vamps, not screwing them. So sometime soon, she would head around to Spike's crypt and finish a job that had been coming for a long time.

"Buffy?" It was Willow, knocking on her door. "You awake?"

"Yeah." Buffy sprang out of bed, feeling bright and perky. First day of life with no mistakes! First day of living this life properly. She pulled the door open and grinned cheerily at Willow.

"Buffy…"

"Yeah?"

"Are you on something?" Willow tried to look around her into her bedroom, as though there might be happy-drugs in there.

"No. I've just decided about something. I'm not going to be depressed anymore. I'm not going to take things out on you guys anymore. I know when you brought me back you were doing what you thought was right, and I shouldn't punish you for that. And I've been punishing Dawn for it, too. And she didn't have anything to do with it at all! No, I'm going to stop this, I'm going to be me again." Buffy smiled after her rousing and slightly cheesy speech, laughing inside at Willow's stunned-bunny expression. Buffy bounded down the stairs, pale brown hair flying out behind her, and pulled the front door open.

Warm sunshine hit her like a wave. It washed over her, filling her with light. She sighed and breathed in deeply, catching the freshness of the new morning in her lungs. Old-Buffy had never done this. She'd never been happy to simply be alive. Breathing had never made her happy. New-Buffy was different. Although still Buffy – in a way, she had always been Buffy – she was a _better _Buffy. There was the difference. They were both Buffy, but new-Buffy was better, and as such, she won Buffy's life. Buffy's friends, Buffy's family; everything old-Buffy had had was now hers.

She stepped back inside and picked up some of the evidence to that effect. It was a framed photo of her and Dawn, one their mom had taken ages ago on a holiday trip to the beach. In the picture, Buffy's hair was brown, her eyes a sharp blue. Everything of the old-Buffy, the depressed, blonde Buffy, had been replaced; even photos taken years ago showed new-Buffy, as though it had always been her.

And, she promised herself, it always would be.

* * *

_Old-Buffy_

She awoke slowly, the events of the past day blocked outside her awareness by the fuzziness of sleep and the absolute perfect comfort she found herself in. She wriggled backwards, deeper into Spike's arms –

_Spike?_

Everything came crashing back in an overwhelming torrent and she gasped, jerking upright as though coming out of a nightmare.

"Buffy-" Spike was awake in an instant, tense, voice laden with anxiety. She turned to him, smiling.

"It's just… yesterday. God, was that a mess." Recovered from the first onslaught, she sank back down into the pillows, running a hand over her face. "I'm really not me anymore…"

"I'm sorry," Spike said instantly, leaping out of bed and away from her. She sat up again, staring after him. What the hell was he doing? "You're all messed up, and here I am all in bed with you… I should never have done that. I'm sorry." He backed away into a corner of the room, looking anywhere but at her.

"Spike," Buffy said, throwing back the covers and standing up, the hem of Spike's borrowed t-shirt rippling against her thighs. "It's nothing to be sorry about. I promise. I'm not angry. Stop looking like you're afraid I'm going to kick the stuffing out of you."

"Isn't that what you normally do?" he asked, sarcasm biting into his words. "As soon as it's not about forgetting who you are? As soon as you think there might be something _real _here? You heard what she said! Everything else you've done, all your mistakes with your life, could be forgiven except being with me. God, you must hate me so much…" He collapsed back against the wall, agony running over his face.

"Spike – listen to me. Yesterday… it's freed me. For the first time, I don't have to be controlled by something I'm not. Free of rules and regulations; free of that life. Free of the Slayer." Buffy walked over to him, covering the distance slowly, drinking in the slow understanding spreading away the regret on his face.

"The Slayer…"

"Yeah. It was never me, Spike, pushing you away all the time, I _swear _it wasn't. It was the Slayer who didn't want to feel good about being touched by a vampire. And now the Slayer's gone. It's just me."

"And who is that exactly? That bitch back at your house said she was taking everything from you – friends, family; hell, Buffy, she's even taken your calling!"

"I'm whoever I want to be," she said, stepping forward to close the gap between them. "And right now, I want to be with you."

"But she said… this was what lost you your life, Buffy! I cost you Dawn, your friends, your home…" Spike dropped down to the floor and curled in on himself. Buffy slowly knelt down next to him.

"Spike, it wasn't a mistake. Believe me that it _wasn't a mistake. _At first, yeah; I was using you, I admit that. I just wanted to make everything go away… just to feel something, feel anything. But yesterday – when you stood up for me, looked after me – hell, I was a total wreck and you could have done anything to me, I wouldn't have cared."

"I _wouldn't_-" he started, defensive.

"I know, Spike. I know. You didn't hurt me when you had the chance, and we know the chip wouldn't stop you. I can't believe you're evil when you pass up an opportunity like that. So it's not a mistake. I mean, if you weren't here I don't know what I would have done. Probably crawled away and died somewhere, I swear I was _that _ready to. But you brought me back. You saved me. _You_, Spike. So it's not a mistake. It's not." Buffy paused for breath, reaching out to him and lifting his chin. "Look at me, Spike." She felt her breath catch as his cobalt eyes met hers.

"You really mean that," he whispered. "You still thought I was… that I could do something like that to you?"

"Not anymore," she said, just as softly. She shifted to sit next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Not anymore. I mean, I thought that you'd want her. New-Buffy. The one who took my life from me."

"No," he hissed. "No, Buffy! Dammit, I – I love _you_, Buffy. I don't care if you're the Slayer, I don't care how many mistakes you make, how imperfect you are, if you're wasting your life or not. I love all of that. I love what you are. And no matter what that is, whether you've got that life or not, I'll still love you."

"Spike… I…" Buffy couldn't go on. Tears were choking up her throat and spilling down her cheek, soaking into Spike's shoulder.

"Hey, you crying? Buffy, I never meant-"

"Spike, it's okay. Really. I'm just…" Buffy shuddered and pulled herself back under control. She wiped her face dry with the sleeve of her shirt and looked up. "Thank you. So much. I don't care about losing all of that, my so-called life, so long as you're here." She chuckled. "It's ironic, really. I have no life, but only now do I feel alive. I never realized the difference before."

"And I have a life," Spike continued, "and I'm dead as a rock."

"Are rocks really dead?" Buffy asked. "I mean, they were never alive in the first place. If death is the withdrawal, the loss of life, the rock's actually pretty… not dead."

"Whatever," Spike growled. "I didn't bring you here to have you analyse everything I say."

Buffy giggled and snuggled back into his shoulder. He lifted that arm and wrapped it around her. Buffy suddenly became conscious that she was wearing one of Spike's t-shirts and that was it. And yet, she didn't feel particularly self-conscious about it. It just felt comfortable, like this could be normal.

Normal. God, she'd had so many issues with normal. Normal was what Angel had wanted for her, normal was what she'd tried to be with Riley, and look how brilliantly _that _had turned out… Buffy had known for a long time that she would never be normal, not with the life she led. But that life was gone now, and she could live however she wanted to. Normal would be whatever she decided it would be.

And right now, normal was Spike. She wasn't leaving him, she wasn't going anywhere he wasn't. She was going to stay right here and rebuild her life with him in it. The Slayer wasn't going to stop her, screaming filth and vileness at being with a vampire; her friends weren't going to criticize her, Dawn wouldn't freak out. She could have whatever she wanted, and she wanted Spike.

"What you thinking, pet?" Spike murmured into her hair after an indeterminable period of silence. "Missing them?"

"Not really," she said. "Actually sort of glad they're not here. Glad they don't know me so I won't take loads of crap from them for being with you. I _would_, anyway – I'd want to, even if they were still my friends. But it makes everything easier. Does that make sense?"

"Sure it does. You still value their opinion, but since they're not going to be giving it you're fine."

"Yeah." Buffy smiled. "That's perfect."

"So what you gonna do, then? About all this, I mean. Dawn, those friends, that bitch in your place… what's your plan?"

"Right now… stay here with you. And that's about it. Stay here and enjoy myself."

Spike either growled or purred, she couldn't quite tell which, and hugged her closer. "And what exactly would 'enjoying yourself' entail?"

Buffy grinned and shifted across so she was sitting on his lap. "Use your imagination."

* * *

_New-Buffy_

"Hey, Dawn, you busy?"

"No… that depends. If the laundry needs doing again, then yes! Very busy!"

Buffy laughed at her sister's attempt to get out of the unpleasant chore; it was pure Dawn. That was something the original inhabitant of this life had missed; the uniqueness, the beautiful traits that made up her little sister. _She'd _seen them as annoying, teenage habits, the sooner eradicated the better; Buffy knew better. They were what made Dawn special, what made her Dawn. Buffy loved it.

"No, I just thought you might like to go see a movie. There's a really cool-looking one in the paper…" Buffy came up the stairs, bringing the ad-bearing newspaper with her. She knocked on Dawn's door and waited for permission to enter. Again, she was better – the old one would have simply barged in. It was the little things that counted, especially to the people around her.

She'd noticed Willow's magic addiction, and with Tara's help, had guided her through a slow stepping-down of her usage. Willow needed the assistance, and as her best friend Buffy was there to provide it. She'd seen how uneasy Xander got whenever his upcoming marriage was mentioned, and had spoken to Anya about it. The two were now actually talking to each other about their problems – and there were problems. Buffy couldn't make them disappear. But she could help, which she _knew _was more than old-Buffy would have done. Old-Buffy would have hidden behind her depression and run off for a quickie with Spike if anything came up. But now that this life was hers, she was going to make it the best she could. That was why she was here, after all. She was in this life to make it better.

"Movie? That sounds cool. Are you sure there's nothing needs slaying?" Dawn looked slightly dubious, as if expecting Buffy to run off at any moment, axe in hand. Of her old self, that would have been true. Technically, Dawn had only known her – new-Buffy – for a day. But when she wanted time with her little sister, or her little sister with her, she would make the time.

"Nah. Well, maybe. I'll give Xander a call and ask him to patrol with Willow."

"What about Spike?"

"Spike?" Buffy snapped more harshly than she'd intended to.

"Yeah. I mean, he's still better at the whole slaying thing than Xander and Willow – than all of us except you, really."

"Spike is a vampire, Dawn. I can't rely on him anymore. When Glory was happening, we were desperate. I would have enlisted anyone who didn't want to kill us right that minute, and that included Spike. But now that's over… I have to do something about him." Buffy shrugged. "But no slaying tonight. Movie?"

Dawn smiled and nodded. "Let me get my coat, I'll be down in a sec."

"Sure." Buffy crossed the hall and knocked on Willow's door. "Hey, Will?"

"Oh, hey Buffy, what's going on?"

"I need you and Xander to patrol tonight, Dawn and I are going out. You should be fine, there's nothing major on the radar."

"Yeah, okay. I'll give him a call now." Willow smiled and moved past her, heading down the stairs. Dawn popped out of her room and they followed Willow down to the lower storey.

"You guys have fun!" Willow called as the kitchen door swung shut behind them.

"Yeah. Fun." Dawn stopped and turned to Buffy. "Look, this is majorly weird. These past few weeks… ever since you came back… it's like you haven't known the meaning of fun. You've just sat there isolated and ignoring everybody. Why the sudden change? It's like you're a different person."

Buffy winced internally at how close Dawn had come to the truth. Maybe she was moving too fast. She still had to be Buffy, after all; people had memories of old-Buffy and she couldn't change those. She'd stepped in where old-Buffy had given up – she hadn't been like Dawn, inserting an entire life into the memories of everyone around her. She couldn't just turn around and be somebody else. Dawn remembered _her _doing all those things: neglecting everything, trying to forget… her depression after returning from Heaven. She had to help Dawn get over that before she could expect her to accept the new Buffy.

"Well, I'm still me, okay?" Buffy smiled and hugged her, with some difficulty given they were walking down the street. "I've just gotten over everything. Heaven, not-Heaven… anti-Heaven, really! But I'm not going to be like that anymore. I'm going to be me again. I'm going to smile at people, I'm going to start eating properly again, I'm going to try and be the way I was before I died. You see, I'm not dead now. I shouldn't act like I am."

"Okay. Stop hugging me." Dawn pushed her away, but grinned at her to let her know that her reluctance was only due to being outside.

Buffy glowed with pride. Another thing solved.

* * *

_Old-Buffy_

Buffy yawned as she drifted out of a dreamy sleep, feeling somebody playing with her hair. She lay still as cold fingers stirred through the tresses, lifting and then lowering them back to the pillow. She grimaced as she remembered she hadn't washed it for a few days.

"You're beautiful," she heard Spike murmur behind her. "Glorious." He lifted her hair up higher and let it drift slowly back down. "I don' care 'bout any of this, you know that? I don' care 'bout that life, 'bout you not being the Slayer. That's not what I love about you. I love _you_, Buffy. I love you. I love what you are, whatever that is. Whatever you want to be, I'll be here for you."

_Spike… _Buffy smiled to herself. She felt good. Better than she had for ages. Somehow, being with Spike was the right thing to do. Maybe because she was only concerned about what was right for Buffy, not what was right for the Slayer.

She felt him lean down to whisper in her ear. "And I know you're awake."

She rolled over to face him, meeting his massive grin. "Vampire, remember? I can hear your heartbeat." He traced over her heart, sending shivers across her chest. "I love that sound. Sounds like life. Like you."

"Me who you love," she said teasingly.

"You know I do," he reproached. "I just said it six times or something."

Buffy giggled and snuggled into his arms. "I know. I'm just… anyone else would never be like this. They wouldn't stand by me when there's nothing to stand by."

"I'm not anybody else, pet. I'm me. And you couldn't get rid of me if you wanted to." Spike hugged her closer. "Well, if you really did, you could – it's not like you're my possession or anything. I'm not-"

"Spike, shut up." Buffy forced him into silence by pressing her lips to his. To her immense disappointment, he pulled back.

"Buffy… what changed? 'cos something obviously did. Few days ago you could hardly bear to touch me, and now… well, that's different. Why?"

"Because the Slayer's gone. The Slayer didn't want to touch you. I did. Spike, please just believe me; I'm not going to turn around and run off again like I did before. I'm a different person now."

"No you're not," Spike said. "You're still you, friends or not, family or not, Slayer or not. And you can't just change like that overnight because some bitch in your bathroom _tells _you you have!"

"Are you telling me you don't want me here?" Buffy pulled back and propped herself on her elbows. "Because it sounds an awful lot like you're making excuses."

"I don't want you to do anything stupid because you're off your nut over this," Spike said. "That's what you did with all that Heaven crap and we know how well _that _was going. I want you to be sure you know what you're doing."

"Oh, I _know _what – who – I'm doing," Buffy grinned, inching forward. But Spike placed his hand on her chest, stopping her.

"Buffy… I'm serious."

"So am I, Spike. I love you."

"Buffy…"

"I mean it. Spike, I love you. I love you. Believe me. This is me, Spike. I'm not messed up over losing my life, I'm not here because there's nowhere else to go. I'm here because I want to be. Because I love you."

She felt his doubts melt away as he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. Her doubts had gone long ago – the instant new-Buffy had said _she _was the Slayer. Without the Slayer, the fact that Spike was a vampire didn't register. It didn't matter about the soul – Buffy knew that rapists and serial killers had souls and it didn't stop them – when the Slayer wasn't screaming that soulless equalled evil. The Slayer… it all came back to the Slayer. But the Slayer was gone. Gone forever. Buffy wasn't the Slayer and Buffy loved Spike. It was as simple as that.

Buffy just had to hope it would stay simple.


	3. III

_New-Buffy _

The doorbell rang just as she was selecting which weapons she wanted to take with her on patrol. She picked up a sword and a really large axe and hurried downstairs.

"Thanks so much for agreeing to watch Dawn, Anya. I've taken a few nights off lately; I should get back into it… Anya?"

Anya had gone paper-white and her hands were shaking. She was staring at Buffy as though she had grown wings and horns. _And _an extra head.

"Anya?"

She didn't stop staring, eyes wide in horror. "No… nothing, I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine."

"Are you sure?" Buffy asked. "You look terrible."

"Oh, thanks so much," Anya snapped. "I'm…" She inhaled deeply and fought to regain some kind of control. "I've got PMS, if you must know. So there's nothing wrong with me that a hot water bottle and lots of sleep won't fix."

"Okay…" Buffy shrugged and went through the door, closing it behind her. It hadn't looked like PMS to her, but you never knew with Anya.

Had she recognized her as not being really Buffy? Did she still remember the pathetic blonde loser that had been kicked out of this life? Buffy thought it unlikely. Only people who actually saw her appear, like Spike had, should be aware of the change – as well as the person being replaced, of course. But Anya didn't fall into either of those categories. She couldn't possibly remember the original Buffy. She remembered new-Buffy doing the things that old-Buffy had done. She _had_ to.

Buffy had to keep this life. This was everything she'd ever wanted – good friends, a loving family, a purpose. That idiot who'd lived it before her couldn't have known what she was giving up. She didn't even fight back. She wanted somebody to take her life away. New-Buffy had been perfectly willing to do so. She was just glad she'd gotten there before somebody else had. And it was rather a good thing, in the long run, that old-Buffy had wanted her life gone. Otherwise new-Buffy wouldn't have it now.

Buffy turned left towards the graveyard, hoping to find something to kill there. It felt somehow odd, slaying demons, but she would get used to it. She was the Slayer, after all – she'd been called into this role by forces beyond comprehension. Slaying demons was her life, and she would slay them, despite the little uncomfortableness she felt at attacking her own kind.

What _had been _her own kind. She wasn't a demon anymore. She was Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer and they were her prey. She had to push aside the fact that she'd been a demon for a few hundred years. She taken this life knowing she would be the Slayer. Buffy wanted to be the Slayer. Being the Slayer was everything. Protecting people, saving the world, averting apocalypses… all in a day's work. It was fantastic.

This was the first time she, herself, had actually patrolled; although she had all of old-Buffy's memories as though they were her own. It was exhilarating, creeping through the streets, darkness cloaking her movements, every sense alert for the presence of some nameless terror. Hunting. Killing. _Living. _There was nothing like this feeling of being alive, blood rushing through her body, charging her for the fight ahead; going forward to meet that fight with anticipation; planning strategy and running through her opponent's weaknesses.

Well, she didn't quite know who her opponent was, yet. She'd been a bit lax with the patrolling lately, getting a feel for this life. Getting to know people for real, not feeding off old-Buffy's memories. Hanging out with Dawn and helping her friends with their problems. But tonight, she would stake whatever unlucky vamps happened to be around, and kill a couple of other demons if any crossed her path.

Should she kill Spike tonight? It wasn't like she needed to make an appointment or anything. It wasn't a special occasion, killing one vampire out of probably dozens in Sunnydale. But Buffy felt there was something special there anyway… something about Spike that made killing him an event, not just part of the job. And he was smart, smarter than most other vamps. She'd need a plan, a proper plan, rather than her usual method of turning up and staking randomly. So not tonight them, but soon. Very soon. Spike, even with a chip, could be dangerous.

Two vampires leapt out of the shadows at her and she forgot everything about Anya and Spike in the rush of the fight.

_Old-Buffy_

"Spike, you're out of food again!"

"Well, go get some more or something, don't whinge to me about it!"

"With what, exactly? I don't have credit cards or anything and I didn't bring any money with me."

"Just go steal something, that's what I always do."

"Spike!" Buffy spun around only to bump into him, standing right in front of her. "God, Spike, don't sneak up on me like that!"

"What, you gonna stake me or something?" Spike's crooked played across his mouth. Buffy loved it when he smiled like that.

"No, it's just really annoying," she grumbled, side-stepping him.

"'I'll make a note to do it more often then," he said slyly, catching her arm and whirling her back into his arms. She laughed as he lifted her off her feet and spun her around like she was a child.

He was just leaning down to kiss her when Anya burst in through the crypt door.

"Buffy!"

Buffy and Spike broke apart and stared at Anya.

"Anya, what's going on?" Spike demanded. "I'm trying to have some private time with the lady, and I'll thank you to keep out of it."

"Buffy, listen-"

"Wait," said Buffy, shock paralysing her. "You know… you know me?" Anya couldn't, couldn't possibly know her! New-Buffy had convinced everyone, even Dawn, that she was Buffy. How could Anya not be part of that?

"Yes, of course I do," Anya said. "Listen, there's this demon back at the house – it's taken over you, Buffy! Everybody thinks that it's you!"

"Anya… I know. I know this. She came to me… what, two days ago? Yeah. Said some stuff and then we left. But Dawn saw us together, talked to her; she didn't know who I was! She didn't question the – demon, you said? Anyway, she just called her 'Buffy', straight out."

"That's what this demon does," Anya said. "It's a Mirror Demon."

"A what?"

"They feed off unrealised potential, wasted moments… lives going to nothing. They take these lives and make them great, make the most they possibly can out of them. And there are loads of them. Loads of famous people are actually Mirror Demons."

"Come on, we'd know," Buffy said. "We'd have to know… people like who?"

"Well, Mother Theresa for one. Saint Francis of Assisi for another. Loads of them aren't necessarily famous, either. Lots of Red Cross volunteers and stuff like that."

"But if they can chuck people out of their lives, like this one did to Buffy-" Spike wrapped an arm protectively around her shoulders, "-why don't they simply take over everyone?"

"There's a condition," Anya said. "The person has to _want _to give up their life. The demon can be blocked by just the slightest resistance, as long as it's early enough. Once they get a hold, they're there forever. But they can only get a hold if they're allowed to."

"And she said I'd made all these mistakes, too… like being with Spike, and not looking after Dawn properly…"

"That's a less important part of it, but it still matters. That's why they can't take over every random suicidal person. There has to be something about wasting the life, about not using it properly. It's specific to each life. If you hadn't been the Slayer, being with Spike would have been fine. It's the mistakes, things in the life that shouldn't happen. That, combined with the person wanting to lose their life, creates a perfect door for the demon. And they swoop through and take it."

"I let her," Buffy agreed numbly. "I let her take everything. I didn't want it, that's true. And I guess she's right about ruining my life, too. I didn't care anymore… I wanted it to end."

"That's the sort of thing they rely on," Anya nodded. "People who won't fight back. They can just walk in unopposed and alter everybody's memories so they _think _it's always been the demon there. The events don't change; everything still happened the same, they just believe the demon did it. And it's not just people. All the photos of you, Buffy – they're photos of her. Her face is plastered all over your house."

"_Her_ house," Buffy corrected. "_She's _Buffy, not me. This demon's obviously pretty powerful. To insert itself that completely…"

"Yeah. Mirrors are one of the more skilled but less violent species of demon. They live in this kind of non-existent dimension, waiting for somebody to lose their grip on their life, and they swoop down and take over it. And not just humans, either – they'll replace anything that has a life that it doesn't want. Other demons… some kinds of animals too."

"So how do you know all this? If the Mirror Demon can fool everybody, why not you? Why don't you think the demon's Buffy?" Spike asked.

"I went over to your place to babysit Dawn while you – um, she – went out on patrol. She opened the door and I was just like 'Oh my God what the hell is going on here?' I didn't actually say that, but I was thinking it. I think she knew something was up, she said I looked terrible, which was _so _not true, by the way – I said I had PMS and she left. And Dawn thought she was Buffy, and all the pictures and everything, they're all her. And I was thinking, 'Right, Buffy's been evicted by a Mirror Demon. Where would she go?'"

"And your first thought was that I'd come here?" Buffy raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"Well, no," Anya admitted. "I was trying to think of who else would know that the demon wasn't you, and it doesn't work on demons, so I thought, Spike! And since we all know he's totally obsessed with you, he'd know what was going on!"

Despite being dead, Spike managed to blush. "Glad to know I'm of some use around here."

"Wait… what do you mean, it doesn't work on demons?" Buffy asked. "You're not a demon, so how…?"

"Well, I think that because I _was _a demon, for over a thousand years, that counts. It didn't take. I still know who you are! And that's why Spike knows too – because the replacement doesn't work on other demons. Or rather, on other species than the one being replaced, because demons get replaced all the time and it works on all the demons of the same species-"

"Thanks, Anya, we get it," Buffy said. Actually she didn't, but she didn't know how much more demon-talk she could take. She wasn't the Slayer, this wasn't meant to be her problem! And of all her friends to remember her, it had to be Anya, possibly the most useless one of them all.

But then again, that was probably a good thing. Definitely good. Anyone else would try and talk her into taking her life back, get her to kick the Mirror Demon out of this dimension and back into its unlife. And they'd be horrified at her and Spike being together. But not Anya. Anya was okay with that, and wouldn't try and make her do anything. On second thoughts, Anya was probably the best person who could have remembered.

Anya and Spike. God, she'd be so lost without Spike. How could she have kept going without having this, without him? What if it had worked and he'd loved new-Buffy? Oh God, how could she have lived with that? She couldn't have. Plain and simple. She could live without her life; her friends, Dawn, everything – but she couldn't live without Spike.

"So what are you gonna do now?" Anya asked.

"Huh?" Buffy looked up. "Oh. Well, like you said… once they get a grip there's no getting rid of them. I can't get my life back, and to be honest, I don't want it. She's welcome to it, and maybe that's what you guys deserve as well. I wasn't much of a friend, or a sister, and you should have more than that. Dawn deserves more; you can't tell me she's not happy with the demon."

"She won't shut up about it," Anya said. "She keeps going on about how great you are, taking her out to the movies, letting her stay up late… just being Epic Sister of the Year, apparently."

"See? She's a better Buffy than me. Anya, please, try and accept her. Buffy Summers lives there now, Buffy with brown hair and blue eyes. It's not me. I'm me. I'm not her. I'm not Buffy."

"That's not true," Anya began. "You're still you. People just don't know you're you. You're not changed by this; you're the same as you were before then."

"Not quite the same," Buffy said. "I've changed. I'm not the Slayer anymore."

"What? Where'd you get that from?"

"That's what new-me said," Buffy said. "She said that since she was the Slayer she was going to come around and stake Spike-" She looked up suddenly; she'd forgotten that thinly-veiled threat in everything else that had been going on. "Spike…" She spun around to face him.

"S'alright, pet," he said reassuringly. "You've never managed to stake me yet, there's no way _she _can. I'm not going anywhere."

"Sorry to break up your special moment," said Anya, not sounding sorry at all, "but she's not the Slayer. You are."

"What? How?"

"Because the calling is a physical thing." Anya explained. "_She _was never called. _You _were. And anyway, the replacement doesn't work on demons; the Slayer is a demon power, right?"

"Yeah…" Buffy refused to believe this. No, no, no, it couldn't be…

"So you're still the Slayer. She _believes _she's the Slayer; so does everybody else, in fact. But she isn't. _You _are."

"But… but I don't _want _to be! I gave that up with everything else of my life! _I gave her the Slayer_!" She wrenched herself free of Spike's arms and strode across to Anya. "Tell me I'm not the Slayer! Tell me… _I'm not the Slayer_!" The crypt rang with her inhuman scream, echoes reverberating between the stone walls for long seconds after she stopped. Buffy gasped for breath and dropped to the floor, landing unceremoniously in a heap. She was the Slayer… she couldn't be the Slayer! New-Buffy had taken everything and old-Buffy had relinquished it gladly. That was why new-Buffy had been able to take it, after all. Had Buffy hung on to that tiny part of her life? Had she been willing to give up everything _but _being the Slayer? No. No way. Buffy had been much gladder about the loss of her Slayer powers than the loss of Dawn and her friends. Inside she knew Anya was right. The Slayer was a demon power, and the replacement didn't work on demons. Buffy was the Slayer.

Buffy was the Slayer.

"Spike…" she gasped, reaching out blindly for him. "Spike…" She heard his footsteps coming closer – and then moving past. Where was he going?

"Anya, thanks for coming, but I think you should go now," Spike said softly.

"Yeah. Make sure the Mirror Demon doesn't kill you. That would make me sad." Anya turned and left, the crypt door swinging shut behind her. Buffy stayed on the floor, feeling the chill sink into her bones. She couldn't move. Even the apocalypse raging above her head wouldn't be able to shift her. She just felt numb.

"Spike, please…"

"Buffy…" He sighed and sat down next to her, but didn't touch her. Buffy wanted to weep with emptiness. Why was he being so distant? Why, after everything they'd shared together, after she'd confessed her love for him, wouldn't he hold her when she needed comfort?

"Buffy, think about it. You're the Slayer. Do you really want _me _helping you? Do you really want to be here at all?"

Oh God. The Slayer. She was the Slayer _and _in love with Spike. She couldn't be both. Everything she was – the Slayer, basically – was screaming at her that she _couldn't _be both…

… could she?

She'd never actually stopped being the Slayer. When she'd realized that she loved Spike, she was still the Slayer. During everything they'd shared over the past two days, the Slayer had been right there with them.

And hadn't said a word.

The Slayer hadn't felt revulsion at Spike's touch, or self-loathing at enjoying that touch. The Slayer hadn't twitched when Buffy told Spike she loved him, or felt sickened when Spike told her he loved her back. There was no difference between Buffy and the Slayer.

There never had been.

"Oh God… Spike…"

"Listen, Buffy, I understand. You're the Slayer, I get that. Just don't hate me, okay? For trying to give you what you needed. For being with you. I thought… hell, _you _thought… just don't hate me."

"Spike… If I was okay with you before, what makes you think anything's changed now? I was the Slayer and I still loved you. Everything I said before this happened was all in my head. I was trying to be what I _thought _the Slayer should be. But if the Slayer's part of who I am, part of _me, _not my life, then it doesn't make a difference. The Slayer's part of who I am, and everything I am loves you."

"Buffy… just be sure about this. You hated me. You were screwing me and you _still _hated me. You can't just change that overnight."

"I _can_. Because I haven't changed. I'm just being honest. That was never real, Spike. It was me trying to be something I _thought _I should be. Using you like that… it was killing me. But it's okay now. I love you. Being the Slayer doesn't change that. I am the Slayer and I love you."

It was something she barely understood herself; that she could be a Vampire Slayer and love a vampire. Love didn't appreciate rules and callings; it simply was, and it was greater than anything else Buffy could name – _much _more powerful than the Slayer. And having recognized that, Buffy knew she could love Spike until the sun burned to a dark hunk of coal, and the Slayer wouldn't care that he was a vampire, that he was soulless; wouldn't care about anything except that he was the one she loved.

Spike reached over to her and pulled her into his arms. The stone floor below her wasn't cold anymore, not when she was buried in the cool haven of his chest. He held her close and she wrapped her arms around him. They sat like that for what may have been hours, comfortable in the knowledge of their shared love. Buffy knew, at last, she was home. She knew exactly who she was, Slayer included, and she still loved Spike. She would always love Spike.

"Love you," she whispered into the deep silence, her words filling something that wasn't quite emptiness.

"I know," Spike said, kissing the top of her head. "Can't believe how bloody lucky I am. You being the Slayer and still loving me…"

"Always," she vowed, turning around to sit face-to-face. "I always will."

"Me too," he said, with that gorgeous grin she loved so much. She leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and kissed him. The world melted away and there was only them. Only her and Spike. Nothing else mattered but her and Spike.

Buffy knew that despite supposedly having lost everything, she could have nothing more than this for the rest of her existence and be completely, perfectly happy.


	4. IV

_New-Buffy_

The vampire ducked her stake and she stumbled forwards, caught off-balance. It slipped around behind her and snaked a foot around her ankle, yanking it out from under her. She tucked up and flipped around, but somehow couldn't get it right, landing hard on her back. She gasped for breath and struggled to sit up.

The vamp was gone.

"Damn!" she swore, feeling around on the grass for the stake; she must have dropped it somewhere along the way and she hadn't even noticed. What the hell was wrong with her tonight?

She'd only dusted one vamp, but had fought at least six. And she couldn't seem to get into it. Her punches lacked conviction, her kicks were inaccurate. She ached everywhere from bruises that should have been inconsequential. She should have been able to dust all of those vamps easily. After enemies like Glory, single vamps in the cemetery were nothing.

Except that all of those six had knocked the stuffing out of her, and only one was dust.

Some Slayer she made. Buffy never had nights this bad. Sure, it got hard sometimes; some vamps were better and trickier than others. But she was _never _this bad. She always had something to hold up at the end of the night, some fight that she'd done well. It was far more likely that only one vamp out of six would _escape_, rather than have only one out of six staked. Something was wrong.

Buffy sat down on a particularly solid tombstone and tried to figure out what it was. She wasn't sick or injured – hadn't been at the start of the night anyway, she mused as she prodded a swollen knee. New-Buffy was a bit taller than old-Buffy; all her memories, her training, came from a shorter person, but that shouldn't matter too much. Maybe at the start, yeah, but after she got used to it…

Something was very, very wrong. Better call it a night. Dejected, she hopped off the gravestone and headed towards home. She half-hoped that something else would jump out at her between here and there, just to have one more try at the slaying; but nothing did.

Buffy came in through the front door, wincing at the sudden onslaught of light after the darkness outside. The TV was playing quietly in the living room and somebody was moving around upstairs. Buffy shrugged her coat off, not without stabs of pain from various vamp-inflicted hurts, and hung it on a hook.

There was nobody in the living room. She turned the TV off and went upstairs to look for Dawn or Anya.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Buffy," said Dawn, popping out of the bathroom. "Whoa, what happened to you?"

"Couple of vamps got over-enthusiastic," Buffy said grimly. "Where's Anya?"

"Oh, that. She should have been back by now. She stayed for about ten minutes and then jumped up and said she just _had _to go do something, would I try and not get myself killed for a while?"

"She just _left_?" Buffy demanded angrily. "You've been alone for two hours?"

"Okay, she stayed for more than ten minutes. And anyway, you've only been gone for about an hour." Dawn shrugged. "Anyway, not dead. Goodnight." She closed the bathroom door, leaving Buffy more than confused.

Anya _had _recognized her. It was the only explanation. Anya knew she wasn't Buffy, and given her experience with demons, she probably knew who she really was too. Buffy swore loudly, causing Dawn to giggle. Buffy ignored her and went back downstairs. She had to do something. It wasn't impossible that Anya would convince the others that Buffy was gone. They all knew about Dawn being imprinted on their lives; they could believe it had happened again. And Buffy wasn't giving this life up. Being the Slayer, having all these friends and family… this life was amazing. And it was hers.

How had Anya known? How had Anya known she was a demon? She hadn't expected it to work on Spike, which was why it hadn't mattered when she appeared to both of them in the bathroom. Spike was a vampire and the replacement wouldn't work on somebody who wasn't human. If she'd been replacing a vampire it would have been fine. She knew it wouldn't work on demons.

Anya _had _been a demon for over a thousand years. Did she still have enough of that left in her to not be taken in by the replacement? Buffy supposed it was possible. She'd never replaced anybody before, after all; she didn't know everything about the process. Anya could count as a demon.

_Oh God._

_That _was what was wrong with her. _That _was why she was such a bad Slayer – she _wasn't _the Slayer. The Slayer came from demonic forces. She hadn't taken the Slayer with the rest of Buffy's life. She was Buffy… but she wasn't the Slayer.

_How could she be Buffy and not the Slayer?_

Simply put, she couldn't be. Buffy and the Slayer were one and the same. They couldn't be separated like this. And what would her friends do? How could she suddenly turn around and say she wasn't the Slayer anymore? They'd known her for over six years as the Slayer – her. She couldn't just turn around and say, 'Oh, by the way, I'm not the Slayer anymore.' Even worse would be the truth: 'I'm a demon and I kicked the _real _Buffy out of this life and replaced her and altered all your memories!' But she was Buffy, was really Buffy, and Buffy was burning inside from the loss of the Slayer. She remembered being the Slayer, remembered the drive and the power. Buffy loved being the Slayer. Old-Buffy, before dying, wouldn't have given it up for the world. It was only the depression after being pulled out of Heaven that had made everything a burden for her. Even with Glory going on, even with missing out on her family and friends, she wouldn't give up her calling.

And neither would new-Buffy.

She had to be the Slayer. She was Buffy, so she was the Slayer. How could she not be the Slayer?

The Slayer was demon-based. Replacement didn't work on demons – not even on ex-demons like Anya. If she wanted to be Buffy, she couldn't be the Slayer.

She couldn't be Buffy without being the Slayer.

She couldn't be Buffy, then. She would have to go and find the original Buffy and put her back. It would take an effort, but it could be done.

She would stop being Buffy because she couldn't be Buffy without being the Slayer. She ached for power she _knew _was rightly hers, power that she couldn't have. She longed with a deep, driving force to be the Slayer, to fill up the gaping emptiness inside her. Everything was so wrong without it. She couldn't live like this.

But old-Buffy could. Old-Buffy would have to. New-Buffy wouldn't give her a choice. New-Buffy had pushed her out of her life, and she could pull her back into it if she really wanted to. Which she did.

She couldn't be like this.

_Old-Buffy _

Waking up in Spike's arms was something she could get used to. She couldn't believe she'd denied herself this for so long. She knew he would have let her stay with him long before this, if she hadn't kept pushing him away. She felt so lucky to be with him now. She'd given him hope, in saying that the Slayer was gone and she, Buffy, could love him; then she'd turned around and suddenly was the Slayer again – and always had been. She'd just been lying to both of them from the start. He had every right to be angry with her, but far from that, he _still _loved her.

And that was everything to her. Spike was everything she wanted, everything she needed. She had her new life now. She had had her friends and family stripped away from her, and that had shown her what living was really about. Living was _living_, living for everything she was. And it didn't matter who she was, or who others thought she was. She was living more than she ever had before.

She rolled over to face Spike's wicked grin. "Morning, sleepyhead."

"How long have you been awake?" she demanded, laughing.

"Oh, only a couple of hours. You're beautiful when you're sleeping." He ran a cool hand down her arm and she shivered. His fingers played over her skin tenderly, chills circling between them.

"Spike…"

A sudden noise came from upstairs, as the crypt door was kicked open and slammed against the back wall.

"_Buffy_! I know you're here somewhere!" Somebody knocked stuff over upstairs, then pulled open the hatch to the lower level.

"Oh God," Spike moaned, releasing her and running a hand through his hair. "It's that demon bitch."

"New-me?" Buffy asked, suddenly breathless. "She said she was going to stake you…" She clung to him in sudden terror.

"She's not doing anything to me," Spike promised. "Or you."

"Buffy? If you're doing anything gross down there you've got about a minute to stop it!"

Spike groaned and slid out from under the covers. "Where'd you dump your clothes last night?" he asked.

"Probably all over the room," she confessed, feeling a blush spread over her face. "I wasn't exactly keeping track."

Spike tossed her what first came to hand, her shirt and a pair of his jeans. He searched further to locate a pair for himself. Buffy dressed hurriedly as new-Buffy's footfalls rang out on the ladder. She came around the corner, all smugness and superiority, just as she had been in the bathroom when Buffy saw her the first time.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Spike growled, vamp face shifting forward as he put himself between new-Buffy and old-Buffy.

"Odd as it may seem, Spike, I'm not here because of you." She smirked and moved past him. "I need to talk to her."

Buffy glanced up from her position sitting on the bed. "I don't care. I don't want to talk to you. You took everything of my life away. You're not coming in here as well. I thought you didn't want anything to do with Spike."

"God, listen to yourself! It's not all about Spike!" New-Buffy shook her head, walking up to her. "I have to talk to you."

"Well, don't. I have nothing to say to you, okay? You got what you wanted, the perfect life. Just be happy with that and leave me alone. So we're sort of the same person. Whatever. I don't care."

"You need to take it back," new-Buffy blurted. "Your life. You have to take it back!"

Buffy laughed bitterly, unable to stop for several seconds. Spike shifted backwards to stand next to her. "You want me to take it back? You ripped it away from me but now you're tired of it? Is that it?"

"I'm not the Slayer," she said. "I'm you and I'm not the Slayer! Can't you imagine how that feels?"

"I thought I gave up that along with everything else you stole from me. I thought, for two days, that I wasn't the Slayer and I was fine with it." Buffy shrugged. "Really don't think you're suffering."

"But you _were_ the Slayer! You didn't feel this… this nothing in here." New-Buffy punched a fist into her chest. "It's so empty… I can't keep going like this, Buffy. I can't be you without being the Slayer. I won't be like this. I'll give this up – everything I went to all this effort to take – because I can't have it all. I'm incomplete and it's killing me."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "So die. I don't care. I'm happy and I'm not taking it back."

"What about Dawn?" new-Buffy shot. "Not wanting your friends back I understand, because I'm you. But surely you can't just condemn Dawn like that."

"I know you're a better Buffy than I am," Buffy said. "Don't tell me Dawn doesn't prefer you. Don't tell me you're not better for her than I am."

"Doesn't matter. I'm not keeping this life; it'll be just like I never existed. Like nothing happened to any of you. Like it was always you in your life. I'll go and you'll just disappear if you stay here. They'll all remember you, all the pictures will be of you… like I was never here. They won't remember me."

"Will _I _remember?" Buffy demanded, sudden panic gripping her. "Will _I _remember what happened? If I go back the way I was before this…" She glanced up at Spike, unable to say the words. If she forgot the past days she would lose what they had together.

"Oh, please," new-Buffy spat disgustedly. "It's not all about you and your vamp boyfriend, okay? Just get over it! You remembered being replaced, didn't you? You'll remember after I'm gone as well."

"Doesn't mean I'm taking this, though," Buffy said quickly. "I'm not taking it back. You wanted it and you can keep it."

"Sorry. I'm leaving and there's nothing you can do about it. You'll have to be Buffy again once I'm gone. What would happen to all the people you care about if you just disappeared? Well, I guess you wouldn't, not exactly. They'd find you eventually, even hiding out down here."

"You've got to stay," Buffy said, uncomfortably aware of the pleading note in her voice but not caring. She _wouldn't _take it back. "You wanted this and you can damn well live with it."

"I _can't_, that's what I'm saying! I can't be like this… I can't be you and _not _you at the same time!" New-Buffy started to pace agitatedly, fists clenching. Old-Buffy remained seated on the bed, unwilling to stand up in case her legs couldn't support her.

"I don't care," Buffy repeated. "I'm not me anymore. You made sure of that. You can't make me be that person again."

"No, I can. I can just disappear like I was never here. I _told _you that. God, get used to it already. You're going back there whether you like it or not." New-Buffy stopped pacing and glared at her, her tone almost threatening. "I'm going out of here and you can't stop me."

"You've got to stay… I can't do that anymore. I'm not that person. I've changed so much since then, I'm so different now. I can't just go back like nothing's happened!" Buffy shook her head, staring down at the floor. "I can't do that again. You know more than anybody how I wanted that life to be gone. Will you really turn around and force me back into that again? You know how _you_ feel, not fitting into this life. Don't you think I'd feel exactly the same way? I couldn't abandon somebody like that. If you're me, you can't either."

"Yes, I can. I'm incomplete. I'm missing the main part of Buffy – the Slayer. I'm not going to be this person without being _everything _that she is. You're the Slayer? Fine. But you've got to have it all. You don't get to keep that and nothing else. It's all or none. And you've got it all."

"We can… I don't know, share or something," Buffy begged as a last resort. It would be better than nothing, surely, at least as a temporary measure. "You could do something to make that work! We can share this; share Buffy's life, including the Slayer. I could teach you, train you, whatever you want! Just don't leave me here!" Oh God, she was going to cry. If this didn't work she was really going to _cry_. Anything but that, not here, not in front of this demon bitch wearing what was kind of her face.

"No," new-Buffy said softly. "Haven't you heard a word of what I've said? I'm leaving because I can't just have part of life. I need it all if I'm going to have anything. I'm gone. Enjoy yourself." She glared down at Buffy once more, before vanishing in whirl of smoke.

"No, wait!" Buffy began, but she was gone. Defeated, she sank back onto the bed. Everything came slamming down on her in one rush. Everything she'd thought she was free of, all the things she'd dreaded through the course of her life since Heaven were _her _problems again. Her reprieve was over.

She was Buffy Summers again.

She had friends with magic addictions and friends whose marriage was breaking up before it had begun, a sister who she couldn't seem to get through to, all the responsibilities of the Slayer, all the drudgery of a normal life compared to Heaven… Everything back the way it was before the freedom of these last few days.

Buffy would never be able to wake up in the arms of the one she loved and just lie there, comfortable and lazy. Buffy would have to get up early to get Dawn off to school. Buffy couldn't just stay in one evening because she felt like it. Buffy was needed out on the streets, roaming the graveyards, fulfilling her calling. Buffy didn't get a moment's rest in her entire day. It would be just as the demon said; like the days since the replacement never happened.

Well, not quite. She'd gained Spike in the loss of her life, and that was something she wasn't giving up. She could do it with him to help her. Her friends would be stunned, sure, probably even upset, but they'd accept it. She'd make them.

Spike sat down beside her on the bed. "You okay?"

Buffy nodded, tears beginning to fill her eyes. "I guess… It's just, I thought I was free of all of that. Being the Slayer… being _me_. I needed to stop being me for a while, and if this hadn't happened something else would have. I thought I was free… and now I'm just as trapped as I was."

She sat up and Spike wrapped her in his arms and suddenly everything felt alright. "Not anymore, pet," he whispered. "You're not trapped anymore. Not when I'm here."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed, snuggling into his chest. She could do it with Spike. She could make her life work again. She'd go back and lose all the freedom, the lack of responsibilities she'd had here, but she'd still have Spike. She would always have Spike.

"Still, might have been nice if she'd stayed. I could have got used to having two of you around."

Buffy turned to him, eyes wide. "Well, if you'd rather chase after her…"

Spike's face turned from amusement to panic. "Buffy – I didn't mean-"

"Oh, shut up," she grinned, capturing his lips in a kiss. She'd take any life with Spike in it.

Well, actually maybe not. She'd rather not have Spike than have him by being Drusilla, for example. Or _Angel_, god forbid. And she'd prefer not to only know Spike as random-hottie-who-hangs-out-at-the-Bronze. And she'd rather not have Spike than be one of his numerous victims.

On second thoughts, just about any life with Spike in it she'd rather not have.

But Buffy's life with Spike she would take.


End file.
